The Wish Pony (11 page)

‘Good boy!' I said, the way I'd heard a television dog trainer say it. ‘Good boy!' The tail thumping got faster and louder.

‘Okay, here's the Halti. Instructions to put it on are here somewhere. Hmm, tricky.'

Finally, I walked Grinder out of the house, leaving Dad and Tom having a cup of tea. He was a happy slobbery dog. It was true what Magda had said, he was probably just bored and lonely. Every time he wanted to go and sniff in the bushes, he'd look up at me first as though asking for permission before suddenly lunging across, his nose twitching furiously. I was very pleased I had the restraining lead. Tom was right, I'd have had no arms left. Grinder was a big dog and most of it seemed to be chest and muscle.

‘Well,' Dad said when we walked home again, ‘this new, ahem, business venture of yours will certainly keep you fit.'

I glanced sideways at him and he was grinning as though he'd been told the funniest joke ever.

‘One of the side benefits,' I said haughtily. ‘We're doing Healthy Minds, Healthy Bodies at school. I might use Prancing Pooches for my project.'

‘Ruby,' Dad said, ‘I am proud of you taking initiative like this, but next time, before you apply your initiative, can you please let me or your mother know? Just as a safeguard.'

‘Sure,' I said, ‘no problem.'

 

The rhubarb tart was delicious. Magda ate it with thick cream poured over the top of the crisp pastry. She sighed slightly as she remembered how much her second husband had loved rhubarb. That big patch he'd grown! Rhubarb sponge every Sunday for weeks. She finger-combed her orange hair. He wouldn't have approved of the colour. Didn't like anything that called attention to itself. Ah well, mustn't think uncharitably of the departed. She'd be departing herself soon enough and she wouldn't want anyone remembering her worst points.

 

 

The Wish Pony slept another night in Ruby's hand – all night this time, no one thought to take him away. This was more like it. He sent his wishes up like fireworks, he was so happy.

Let Ruby's baby brother get stronger every day.
Let Ruby's mother be happy.
Let them both come home soon.
Let Prancing Pooches be a huge success.

Though really, he thought, Prancing Ponies had a better ring to it – and ponies could prance, unlike dogs who were faking it. Prancing Ponies would be a business success – the name alone would ensure it. But there weren't that many ponies around Ruby's street, he had to admit. Just him, really – and he wasn't prancing anywhere except in his heart. That was good enough for him.

Being perfectly good for days on end was extremely difficult. I managed very well for a whole week and a bit. Mum came home and Dad and I cooked pasta, bought flowers and I painted a Welcome Home banner. But Mum was worried and tired all the time and never really home. She spent as much time as she could at the hospital.

‘I'm sorry, Ruby, I'll make it up to you, but right now he needs me. They say the babies improve much more quickly if they get contact with parents. You do understand, don't you?'

I said yes, of course I did. But I was lying. What about me? Just because I didn't have to improve didn't mean I didn't need her. I looked at my first fifteen dollars from Tom and wondered about a really good summer visor I'd seen on the way home from school. It was only ten dollars and orange. I liked orange. It was a today colour. Bree and Sarah both had orange thongs. I didn't want orange thongs, but a sun visor was a different thing entirely.

I didn't spend the money on myself, though. I bought a big bowl-shaped pot instead. I had to tell Dad about the garden in order to get it home, because Magda didn't have a car. He promised he wouldn't interfere, but he did anyway. In a good way. He shouted me a bag of blood and bone and one of potting mix. Which wasn't really interfering, as he pointed out, just speeding along my project a bit.

‘You want it to be ready when Mum brings the baby home from hospital,' he pointed out and he was right, I did. But I wouldn't let him buy the flowers – I wanted another pot first and that would take another week of Grinder walks.

They still hadn't named my brother. Every night we played a new game – name the baby. But none of the names we thought of seemed quite right. He wasn't a Jeremy (thank heavens!) or a Sam (though I thought he might grow into a Sam, given a chance) or a Phillip (Mum!) or even a Jack. He wasn't a William (after granddad) or a Thomas (after my other granddad) or an Edward (because Dad was).

‘Did you have as much trouble naming me?' I asked.

‘Oh no,' Mum said, ‘I always knew you were a Ruby. Well, a little while before you were born, I knew you were a Ruby. It was my mother's favourite stone in the world. I wanted you to have some connection to her. You were an easy baby, Ruby. Baby Logan is just a bit more difficult. We would probably have thought of his name before he was born, he just surprised us all by coming so early.'

She looked less worried as the days went by and Baby Logan grew. We all went into the hospital – which I hated. He still mostly slept, though, with his eyes closed. It was ages before I realised he had blue eyes because I'd hardly ever seen them open.

‘Cameron?' I suggested coming home one evening. ‘Jackson? Some kind of wonderful name from an old book, maybe? Caspian?'

The Three Geeketeers were reading the Narnia books – I knew because I'd seen Bailey with one at lunchtime and the day before I'd seen the very same book in Magda's book basket. She saw more of Bailey than me now that Mum was home most afternoons and able to look after me.

‘I wish they'd find a name for Baby Logan,' I told the Wish Pony, holding him that night. I blew gently into his glass nostrils – I'd read recently that horses liked it when you did that. I had decided I might be a vet when I grew up so I borrowed animal books from the library. When I blew in his nostrils, the Wish Pony seemed to very gently huff back at me. ‘How is he supposed to grow properly without a name?'

I dropped in on Magda the next afternoon, with Grinder. Grinder liked Magda's place. He sat in the kitchen with his head on Magda's lap – she didn't even mind him slobbering – and listened while we talked.

I told Magda about wanting to be a vet.

‘Well,' she said, ‘you'd never be lonely, not with all those animals around. On your way out, you might like to look in the book basket. I'm pretty certain there's an animal book there.'

I took
My Family and Other Animals
home with me. A boy was the hero – I normally prefer books about girls – but this boy had this great weird family and they lived on an island somewhere. He didn't even have to go to school but just listened to stories all day and collected scorpions. It was unlikely that, as a vet, I'd ever be called out for a scorpion, but he also had a couple of dogs. It seemed to me that we should all grow up like he did. I didn't want to stop reading and snuck out to the kitchen to borrow the torch for a little while – just to the end of the chapter.

I was so busy reading at breakfast time, and Dad was so busy checking out his eBay bargains, that we were both running late that morning – me for school and him for work.

It wasn't until we got to school that I realised there was an excursion that morning and I should have been there by 8.20 – not 8.45.

‘You'll have to drive me to the station,' I said, ‘they were catching a train. Remember – you signed the excursion form. You should have remembered.'

‘Ruby, I can't take you to the train. Anyway they will have left by now. You'll simply have to spend the day at the school.'

‘Dad! They were going to Parliament House and everything. You've already paid.'

‘I don't care. There's nothing I can do. Quick, out you hop! Look, there's another kid about your age. Look's like he's missed the boat, too.'

It was Bailey, loitering near the gates, looking this way and that, but not actually walking through the school gate.

‘Bailey,' I said, but Dad was already pulling away.

‘Hi, Ruby. You're late.'

‘So are you.'

‘I know. I really wanted to go to Parliament House, too. It's all Dad's fault. I've texted him. He made me late.'

‘So he's come back to your Mum?'

‘No chance. I have to spend Wednesday nights with him. Bonding,' Bailey said gloomily. ‘But he said he'd come and give me the train fare and I could catch a later train. You could come, too – he'll give me enough money.'

‘Do you think that's a good idea?'

‘Here he is – Dad! I need twenty dollars – Ruby's missed the excursion, too. We'll go in together.'

‘Hi, Ruby,' Bailey's dad's voice was like Santa's, ‘how's it going? You've missed the excursion, too. Well, never mind. Hop in and I'll take you both to the station and you can catch the next train in.'

‘All by ourselves,' I whispered to Bailey in the back seat, ‘I don't think the school would be happy ...'

‘I'm not going to be happy missing out on Parliament House,' Bailey said, ‘I might want to be a politician when I grow up.'

‘Really? I want to be a vet.'

‘Here you go, kids. Don't spend it all at once.' Bailey's dad handed Bailey a ten dollar note and gave me one as well.

‘Gee, um Mr … thanks very much. I'll pay Bailey back.'

He waved a hand dismissively, ‘Don't even dream of it, kiddo. It's my small investment in the future of this country. I'm just pleased I was around to help you both.'

‘Bye, Dad, have a good week. Oh – and don't forget to ring the school. Tell them you've taken Ruby as well, okay?' Bailey waved him off. ‘We'll use my money for the tickets and yours for lunch, okay?

‘Bailey, I've never been into the city by myself. Have you?'

‘No,' Bailey said, ‘but hundreds of people, probably thousands, manage it. It can't be that hard.' He marched up to the railway person sitting in the little office and asked him how we'd get to Parliament House. I thought the man might ring the police. I certainly didn't think he'd just hand over two tickets, which is what he did.

‘Easy peasy,' Bailey said smugly. ‘I hope you've brought a book, Ruby, because I like to read in trains.'

‘Course I've got a book. It's fantastic, too.'

‘Magda's book basket?'

I nodded. Bailey took out his book and began to read. I took out my book, too, but I was too nervous to read. What if we missed the station? What if someone strange and creepy sat next to me? How could Bailey calmly read? Across the aisle, two girls were sharing an iPod and bouncing their heads around in time to the music. In the seat behind me, some guy spoke loudly into a mobile phone. A tired-looking mother said, Not far to go now, about ten times without ever once sounding grumpy. Bailey kept reading.

Ages later – the bouncing girls had got out, the man's mobile had rung three more times and the toddler had fallen asleep – Bailey's phone beeped and he emerged from his book.

‘Nearly there,' he said and put his book in his bag.

‘How do you know?' We weren't even at a station.

‘Trip takes an hour and eight and it's been an hour and five. I set my alarm.'

‘Wow. You are organised!'

Sure enough, Parliament Station was two stops away. But my ticket wouldn't work in the ticket machine.

‘You must have bent it,' Bailey said from the other side, ‘you'll have to climb over, Ruby – there's nothing else for it.'

I didn't want to – there were too many people around and it was so embarrassing,

‘Hurry up, Ruby, I don't want to miss anything.'

I hoisted myself up.

‘Hey, you! Stop!'

A hand grabbed the back of my t-shirt and hauled me down.

‘There are rules against fare evasion,' a stern man in a uniform told me. ‘Now, what's your name?'